Half the Man I Used to Be
by RainbowRepublic
Summary: When George is devastated after Fred's death, a letter from the dead tells him not to waste his time alive moping. Warning: bad summaries, authors begging for reviews, and GNOMES! JKR's characters, of course.


**Hey, guys! Who went to see Harry Potter this week? Better yet, who went to see the premier? I did! I cried so hard that my mom was actually starting to get worried about me. I had to write this little piece before I was off my inspiration high, so with out further ado, my VERY FIRST ANGST! **

_**Half the Man I Used To Be**_

"Aargh!" I shouted, kicking the wastebasket to the corner of our- no, _my_ room. I heard a muffles sob outside the door. It was probably Mum… or Hermione… or even Percy, considering how very feminine the cry sounded. Any of them would be upset that I had most likely drunk myself into a stupor yet again. It seemed as though that was all I was capable of these days. Drinking, crying, reminiscing, drinking some more, crying again.

Reminding myself of him was the hardest thing, yet I was so frightened that I would forget him if I didn't. However impossible it seemed, I couldn't sleep because I dreamt that he was fading, evaporating even, from the contours of my mind.

I wasn't the only one who was suffering, and though I was sure that I was hurting the hardest, I took comfort in that. Percy blamed himself for everything; my agony, Mum's sorrow, and the family's loss of half their humor in dark times was all weight on his shoulders. I myself never really blamed him. True, it seemed his joke was funny enough to distract Fred long enough for the bloody explosion to kill him. Actually, when I put it that way, it _was_ his bloody fault. I kicked another bucket.

"Stop it, George! Let me in!" Mum cried in a strangled voice from just outside my door.

"No." I answered, surprising myself at the sound of my own voice. It was cracked, _broken_, to the point where it didn't even sound like me. There was no humor or mirth in it, just hollowness. This was the voice of a bloke who just lost his brother, his twin, his other half, and thought it fit to wallow around in self pity. It was pathetic, really.

"Alohamora." I heard her whisper anyways. The lock clicked open and I heard my mother gasp. Fred and I, surprisingly, were known far and wide (or at least within the Weasley household) for having the most impeccable room. Now, however, I had destroyed my half in a drunken rage. At least Fred's half remained virtually untouched. Most people would think this was because I wanted to leave it as is to preserve his memory. Most people were wrong. The real reason was to silly and pathetic to tell.

You see, I found myself both physically and emotionally unable to go to or even look at Fred's half of the room. More than a glance would leave my on my knees, clutching my chest in pain as the gaping hole threatened to consume me. Tears that I was unable or unwilling to control would fall as memories of better times raced through my mind.

"George, come outside. I think you'll want to see this." Mum said soothingly whilst running her fingers through my hair. I realized that, not unlike my room, I probably looked rather un- George like. I hadn't showered or even changed my clothes for more than a couple weeks.

Merlin, had it only been that long? I had torn the calendar that Fred and I had painstakingly made by transfiguring several gnomes together. On special days, it would pick a new bad word to recite to us, definition and all. It became too painful to look at many things in my room, including the mirror that I had thrown a collectable bludger from the Quidditch Word Cup at. It was quite sad, really, that I couldn't even look in the mirror without being reminded that Fred and I look exactly alike.

Mum took my hand and I looked at her, regarding her presence once again. She gave me a comforting smile as she dragged me through the house and out to the garden. Everyone was out there and clutching pieces of parchment to their chests. They were either crying or hugging their significant other, or a loved one in Bill and Charlie's case. Surely no one else died, right? I looked at Mum questioningly as she handed me a letter, but then I remembered. The day before the wedding, the day before Harry left, Bill had suggested that we write a letter to our most loved one, just in case.

"Just in case Fleur decides she can't stand us anymore?" Fred had asked jokingly. None of us actually believed something would happen to any of us.

"Just in case." Mum sternly replied. We had both written our letters out to "George's Lost Ear", describing in it how much we mourned it's loss and how now Fred was indeed the better looking twin. When no one was looking I had put in an actual letter addressed to Fred, of course. I hadn't realized until now that Fred had done the same.

Gingerly taking the slightly yellowed envelope, I thought about how much this letter could hurt me. As much as I would want to have taken it up to my room where I could cry while having maintained my dignity, I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

"Do it," someone said. "It's what he would have wanted." Yeah? Well, I wanted a twin that's not dead; I wanted Fred to come back and say it was all a prank. I wanted my other half back, but we don't always get what we want, do we?

Nevertheless, I tore off the wax seal, almost smiling as I saw what was on it. Fred had really gone all the way, making a seal that had two men (twins, probably) wearing sweaters with an F and a G on them. Taking out the letter, I took in the familiar handwriting. I looked up, but everyone had already turned away. Sitting down, I kicked a gnome away and began to read.

"Dear ickle Georgie-kins," it started. "If you're reading this letter, I suppose this means I'm dead. I can only hope I died courageously with heroic last words and all the works. It has been one of my greatest nightmares lately that I would be crushed by that bloody flying ice cream van Dad keeps in the garage. Can you imagine how humiliating my obituary will be? 'Fred Weasley, aged 20, was crushed this Tuesday by his father's blasted ice cream van while his bloody twin pointed and laughed.' How embarrassing.

I also suppose that if you're reading this letter, you've survived the second wizarding war. Congratulations, I never knew you had it in you. Actually, I always knew you had it in you. I may be the better looking twin, but you are definitely the more organized and better-at-planning twin. We really don't say this enough, so I will say it right here so that you will know forever. I love you, George. While I can be reckless at times, you always execute our plans perfectly. You are the best twin, best mate, and best partner in crime a ginger could ever ask for. Don't tell Percy this, but you are probably my favorite brother."

"Now, you are probably worrying how you will run the shop without me. Although I usually come up with the ideas for products and pranks, you know you can do it. The Extendable Ears were your bloody brilliant idea, weren't they?

Don't worry about anything. You will be the best businessman a prankster can ever be. Live a little, be reckless, and the ideas will come to you naturally. You may even come up with better ideas than I did.

I love you, and I will always be watching you. Kick those gnomes' arse for me, will you? Love, Fred."

A ray of sunlight burst through the heavy cloud covering, blinding a gnome that was slowly inching itself to its burrow and out of my reach. I smiled a small grin. Instead of hurting me, Fred's letter healed me a hell of a lot more than time could. I still had a long way to go, and though I'll probably never get over the loss of my other half, I realized that life will go on. I was half the man I used to be, yet I could try and be the man I had always wanted to be. Fred was gone, but he still lived inside me and he was waiting for a chance to break free. I laughed loudly. I wasn't alone anymore.

**Wow. That ended up being a lot longer than I anticipated. It was worth it though. Review please! I will reply to reviews, if that's an incentive to you. Tell me, please, whose dead did you cry for the most? Who left a hole in your heart as they passed on? Whose death did you pretend was just a typo? Have an amazingly amazing day (or night)!**

**RainbowRepublic**


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